Yad Vashem, Holocaust Memorial

Emma, Ryan and I visited the Holocaust Museum today, Yad Vashem, meaning a place and a name.  From Isaiah 1: “For so says the Lord to the eunuchs who will keep My Sabbaths and will choose what I desire and hold fast to My covenant, ‘I will give them in My house and in My walls a “Yad vaShem” (place and a name), better than sons and daughters; an everlasting name I will give him, which will not be discontinued.’”

Appropriate name for a memorial remembering those not offered the dignity of a funeral.

I've never been so moved by a space before.  Yes, it was filled with photos, video, artifacts, etc, but the architecture of the space made me feel as confined and trapped - just a small taste of how it may have felt in a ghetto or concentration camp.  The largest part of a museum is shaped in a steep triangle.  You zig-zag from side to side moving through the progression of anti-semetic thought, rise of Adolph Hitler, initial persecution of Jews, relocation to ghetto's, concentration camps, the war and then resettlement camps.  The walls were hard, cold, flat, grey, endless rock.

I started out reading and listening to everything.  About half way through I had that first sense of just wanting to flee.  I wanted to escape the pain, injustice, tragedy of it all and not think about it anymore.  But my sweet Ryan kept me there.  He was lost in it.  I had a sense not to rush him as he read, listened, watched it all.  So I tried to act like the grown-up he was being and forced myself to continue.  We made it through, holding hands and hugging most of the time.  Won't ever forget doing that with him.

We finished around 3:30 and went downstairs to a cafe for a late lunch.  We have not seen tomato soup anywhere here yet.  Would you believe they had it there for us?  That is Ryan's and my favorite comfort food.  God loves us in the sweetest little ways.

This is a sculpture of Janusz Korczak.  He was a children's author, pediatrician and eventual director of an orphanage in Warsaw.  He refused freedom and remained with his orphans when they were first sent to a ghetto, then a concentration camp.  He died along-side the children he cared for.

My favorite spot was the Hall of Names.  A circular dome filled with pictures of some of those who died, while a voice read out names of others.  You look up and get lost in a dizzying sea of people.  Directly below that is a dug-out hole with a reflective pool of water at bottom.  Then along side you, the walls are filled with volumes of books, listing names and what information they had on the people that died.  Overwhelming.